Page 55 of The Right Garza

Trent points a finger at his twin. “That better not be my food you’re eating.”

“It is,” True lies, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. “Hmm,allthis juicy oxtail just for me.”

Trent looks to Monica. “Mom, really? I asked younotto put our food together.”

Before Monica can respond, he produces a taser and lunges at his brother. True darts off in the other direction and Trent chases him.

Monica groans and rubs her forehead.

“He falls for it every time,” Tillie mumbles, bored. “He makes it so easy for True to mess with him.”

“So, uh,thisis what you miss?” I ask Monica with a hearty grin.

Trent and True battling over food is very reminiscent of the old days. I figured Monica would’ve been overjoyed that they’ve finally grown up and moved out with all their nonsense, but apparently that’s not the case.

“I’m clearly a masochist,” she says, shaking her head. “Glad to see you here, though, Lexi. Now don’t be like my sons. You should come visit often now that you’re back.”

“I will,” I promise.

“What you need is aman, Mom.”

“Tillie!” Monica chides.

Tillie laughs. “What? It’s true. You keep pushing away everyone who shows interest. Do you think Dad would have wanted you to die old, bored, and lonely?”

“I’m not talking about this with my sixteen-year-old daughter,” Monica says through clenched teeth.

“Fine,” Tillie concedes. “Well, at least talk to Lexi.”

Um… I keep my mouth shut. Monica is like a second mother to me, so I don’t think I want to be talking to her about her love life.

Fortunately, Trent and True return, sparing us an awkward conversation.

Some forty minutes later, Monica and Tillie hug us goodbye. Trent disappears upstairs and True watches television on the couch with me. When I ask for him to share some of his food with me, he gives me a resounding no, telling me that it needs to last him “for dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

I gape at him. “You’re telling me you can’t afford to buy—or even cook—dinner tomorrow?”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head at me as if I’m slow. “Leftover Sunday dinner is what makes Monday worth surviving through.”

I kick his leg. “You’re ridiculous.”

When he eventually falls asleep beside me, snoring into the cushions, I quietly ease off the couch and go in search of Trent.

I find him in the bedroom I’d woken up in, sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He must’ve showered since he’s now wearing sweat shorts and a wife-beater.

I walk over to the bed and sit down at the end, making sure there’s a large amount of space between us. “Hey.”

Slowly, he turns his gaze from the ceiling to me, and my heart thuds loudly from having his full attention on me. “Hey.”

“So,” I start, “I woke up in your bed this morning.”

“Uh huh?”

“So…how did I get in here?”

He cocks a brow at me. “Youwalkedin here.”

“I did?”